by Fabina Benites Colon
I remember like it was yesterday. The Summer of 1989. All I could hear my mother chanting over and over again was "agarrense de las manos!" So, we held hands tight--me and my four siblings, my grandmother and my mother--as we ran confused and lost across the airport to find our airline to board the plane. I was excited to leave Lima, Peru, but I didn't expect what was waiting for us in the United States.
I was 7 years old when I arrived to the Bronx, NY with my family. Being the youngest child in my family, my cultural history and identity was nurtured through all the amazing stories I heard from my siblings, parents, and my grandmother. Although I don't remember much about Peru, the stories took me through a mental journey that felt so real and triggered all my five senses.